


I Go To Sleep

by IvyOnTheHolodeck



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:12:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7383163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyOnTheHolodeck/pseuds/IvyOnTheHolodeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the beaches of the Pacific, framed by the sparkling lights of Los Angeles, there is a villa with white swooping columns and glittering windows. Hollywoodland, as it is called at the moment, is mere minutes away, which is appropriate given the young man with an actor’s good looks immersed in a novel in his study. He has been there for hours, ever since he received the book in the mail from an old business partner. And now he has just finished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Go To Sleep

On the beaches of the Pacific, framed by the sparkling lights of Los Angeles, there is a villa with white swooping columns and glittering windows. Hollywoodland, as it is called at the moment, is mere minutes away, which is appropriate given the young man with an actor’s good looks immersed in a novel in his study. He has been there for hours, ever since he received the book in the mail from an old business partner. And now he has just finished.

The man rereads the last line, his lips shaping the sound of the living words, before closing the book and sitting still for a moment. He blows out a long breath. 

A servant walked into his office a few minutes later. "You called, sir?"

"Cowen, my good man." The young master is standing at the window, staring out across the sparkling expanse. Waves of the Pacific are gentle this evening, far from the tempest they'd endured a few months back. "Your friend seems to have misled me. Do you have any idea why?"

"Sir?" Cowen never gives away what he is thinking. It's partly what makes his so useful to these...gentlemen.

The man gestures behind him at the blue-bound paperback lying face-down on his desk. A teasing breeze slips into the room, toys with the pages, and dances back out laughing. "This book. He claimed that it had been penned by the protagonist."

"Yes, sir."

"Cowen, have you  _read_  this?" the handsome youngster demands. "Listen-" 

In two brief steps, he's back at his desk, sweeping up the novel. He reads aloud, incredulous, “'Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther… And one fine morning - 

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.'"

Cowen pauses. "Yes?"

“Man! You're telling me  _Nick Carraway_  wrote that?"

The older man is expressionless. "Yes."

“When?!"

Here, for the first time, Cowen shifts, uncomfortable. "While he was in the asylum, sir."

The other slowly rests the book back on the table. "What do you mean?" 

Cowen coughs. "He writes at the end of the book, sir, that he was returning to the Midwest. His family had checked him into an asylum in Kansas. I believe he was experiencing insomnia and bouts of fury."

"Oh, God." The blonde man sighs, brows pulling together. "Poor Nick." He pauses for such a long time that Cowen begins to wonder if he's been dismissed. Then the gentleman shakes himself out of his trance. "I should have told him. That does it. Old sport, I want you to call Meyer Wolfsheim-" Cowen makes a noise of protest but his master barrels on. "And tell him that  _damn_  Nick's morals, we're bringing him in on the plan. He'll be an asset if he can write like that." 

Had Cowen less experience with the ways of men, he might believe that Carraway's skills are the only reason the young man is giving this order. Instead, he bows, deferential as ever. "As you say, Mr. Gatsby."


End file.
